


A Part of the Game

by linzackles



Series: Do Not Collect $200 [1]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: A tiny bit, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, On and off domesticity, a lot of Marcus, daddy Rio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-13 02:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19242286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linzackles/pseuds/linzackles
Summary: “You need a favour? From me?”“Did I stutter?”“You’re asking me for a favour after you couldn’t give a shit when I was about to go to prison for murder? After you refused to help when I swallowed my pride and begged you for money? When Stan was in jail; when Dean took my kids – every time you refused to help!”“Yea.”ORRio asks Beth for a favour and it changes everything.





	1. Free Woman

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this series (yip, this'll be the first work in a series, if you like it) before the season finale, with the idea that it would be set post-S2. After watching the finale... I realised I completely played myself. I considered scrapping it entirely or twisting myself into pretzels trying to write my way out of that mess and then... (after taking a few days to drown my sorrows) I realised that those last few minutes is the writers' mess to clean up. So Imma pick this up just before that, 'kay? Let's pretend it never happened.
> 
> I want to thank each and every person for all the comments and kudos on my last work. It was my first and the warm reception I received is honestly the only reason this is here now. This is on a very different wavelength, seeing as they're not high, giggly and making brownies, but I hope you'll like it too.

Beth wakes and she’s not sure why.

Turning, she sees Dean beside her and her memory comes back to her. They’d fallen asleep while watching TV together. He’s sprawled out, mouth open, in a position that’s definitely going to leave his neck hurting in the morning.

She pulls her legs off his lap then covers him with the blanket, unable to catch herself from staring at him again.

He’s drooling a little bit and he reminds Beth of Danny; of Kenny.

God. Despite everything she’d tried, she genuinely couldn’t seem to find that spark for him inside herself again. All she felt when she looked at him was pity, caring and love, faded as an old T-shirt. She wanted to take care of him as if he were one of her sons.

Sighing a little, she decides to text Annie to check if she’s up.

Had she made the wrong decision letting Dean stay? She needs to talk to someone about it.

Her hands go to her back pockets then she frowns and pats her side pockets. Her phone isn’t there.

She rushes over to her handbag to dig through it and, after a second, pulls it out with a puff of relief. Thank god she hadn’t forgotten it in her car.

But then she sees a text.

It’s from him.

**_Free woman now, huh? Congrats._ **

She stares at the text, a million questions racing through her mind. How did he know already? Where was he always getting his information?

Is he gone for good now? What is happening??

She wants him to know, for some reason, that she’d figured it out. His cryptic little clue that had put millions of dollars in counterfeit money in her hands. But, more than that, she wants to know if he’s coming back.

That’s the fear that had spread through her chest and settled like a rock in the bottom of her stomach since the moment she saw his place cleared out. Since he wouldn’t tell her where he’d gone or what was going on. Since he’d refused to help her.

Since she’d seen everything from electronics to clothing in those storage units. He hadn’t moved his things elsewhere. He’d just… left.

**_What do you want me to do with all your stuff?_ **

She wants him to tell her to keep it safe, because that will mean he’ll be back. Wherever he’s gone, he’ll be back.

**_Enjoy it._ **

Her eyes go over the two simple words and she’s overwhelmed with emotion.

He’s given her nothing, as usual. But he’s also given her everything.

Not just the money. Those two words, they mean more. He could’ve said _Keep it_ , but he hadn’t. _Enjoy it._ Because she hadn’t enjoyed anything, not for a long time, not without an FBI agent on her back.

But now she’s free.

Her glance scans over the text once more before she turns back to Dean. He’s still sleeping, drooling a little bit more now.

Her glance roams around the house before returning to him.

She feels chained, with him; anchored. And it’s not the house or the kids or anything else about this life. It’s just him. She feels it only when she looks at him.

She looks at Rio’s words once more, at _Free woman_ , then locks her phone and goes in search of her crafts.

It’s twenty minutes later when she looks at her handiwork.

_Dean_

_We had it right the first time. We need to rip off the Band-Aid. Don’t worry about the place; I’ll find you somewhere great and make sure it’s all paid up. I’m going to sleep at Annie’s. Pack everything you think you’ll need and we’ll get you all moved out by the weekend._

_Let’s do lunch with the kids on Sunday. We can discuss more permanent details then._

_I love you._

_B_

She reads it over and over, and each time she smiles brighter. She deserves this house. She deserves to stay. And if she’d be paying for his place, she doesn’t think he’ll put up much of a fight. She just needs to keep this as civil as possible. It’s why she’d added the ‘I love you’. Like with Kenny and Danny, she needed to be delicate; needed to ease him into this idea.

She leaves the note beside him, goes upstairs to pack an overnight bag, then heads out without looking back.

* * *

~ Six weeks later ~

* * *

 

Beth runs her fingers over the front desk thoughtfully.

It’s dark out – the FBI had made sure to _un-cease_ her dealership at the worst possible hour – and so she can’t see it in all its operating glory. Instead of being filled with people, voices, printer sounds and customers, it’s dead silent. She taps her fingernails before moving on, heading towards her office.

She doesn’t know why she’s come in, really, except because it felt right. She supposes she can look through a few papers; prepare for the morning. She would be taking the afternoon shift when she had the kids, with Dean taking the morning, and vice versa.

She’d adjusted to him being gone as easily as she had last time, but this time around the house feels emptier for some reason. Maybe it’s because she’s had to figure out more this time. Her new treasurer position on the school board is one fraught with risks despite not earning her all that much profit, and after putting the kids to bed, it’s time to figure out which new bake sale, book night, luau or poker game she’s going to rope the committee into planning whereby she can wash cash.  

And the nights without the kids are so much worse. She’d made sure to get Dean an apartment they’d love and even though it makes her happy that they’re happy… when they’re not there, it aches somewhere deep inside to know that they’re happy without her.

 _You’re lonely_ , Annie had told her, and she’s not wrong. Beth feels lonely all the time. It’s worse when she’s with the other moms, pretending like she cares about the event they’re coordinating, when all she really cares about is the FBI not realising she’s laundering money through her children’s school.

Beth exhales heavily, nearly to her office, when she hears a strange sound.

It’s like something turning on and she spins to see the coffee machine coming to life.

She stares at it in confusion before her eyes adjust to the dark, which perfectly camouflages the figure dressed in black.

His eyes glimmer beneath his beanie and Beth is honestly at a loss for words.

“Home sweet home,” Rio smirks, his voice ringing around Boland Motors.

She doesn’t know if she’s talking about her or him so she says nothing, though she attempts to at least press her parted lips back together.

“You want a coffee?”

“Do you know how to work the machine this time?”

This is good. Falling back into their old rhythm of back and forth, instead of one of the million hurt questions falling from her lips.

Where had he gone? How had he just left the way he had? Had he thought about her at all?

“I’m good at figuring things out,” he shrugs.

She squares her shoulders. “So am I.”

“So I hear.”

It bothers her to know that he knows what she’s doing for money now; that she has no idea how he always knows everything. (How had he even known she’d be here right now?) But she tries not to let it show.

“What are you _doing_ here?”

He starts advancing for the first time, but she stands her ground as his eyes skim the length of her body; taking in every part of her. She feels naked even though her coat leaves everything to the imagination.

He’s clearly up to the challenge, though, his eyes gleaming even more by the time they make it back up to hers.

“I need a favour.”

It catches her so much by surprise that her scoff nearly gets her choking.

“ _You_ need a favour? From me?”

“Did I stutter?”

It makes her want to launch herself at him but, knowing that won’t end well, she fixes him with the absolute dirtiest glare she can manage.

“You’re asking me for a _favour_ after you couldn’t give a shit when I was about to go to prison for murder? After you refused to help when I swallowed my pride and begged you for money? When Stan was in jail; when Dean took my kids – every time you refused to help!”

He stares at her till her anger has long dissipated, till she’s standing there with her shoulders slumped, entirely empty.

She thinks a year has passed in a minute by the time he speaks.

“Yea.”

She feels incredibly tired. She could pass out of exhaustion.

She thinks her eyes might just slip closed now, and it takes everything she has to say just one word.

“No.”

She’s halfway through turning away – to her car, she needs to get to her car – when he speaks again.

“It’s important.”

She forces herself to keep going, keep moving away, and he raises his voice.

“Gave you the money, didn’t I?”

And that stops her.

She scoffs, spinning around.

“You didn’t _give_ me anything! You left a _felony_ in the name of a woman who was being investigated by the FBI!”

“Should I have put it in your sister's name?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

She wants to slap him, she really does, and there haven’t been many times in her life when she’s wanted to slap a man.

She stomps forward, surprising them both, sending him back a few steps.

“What do you _want_ from me, Rio?!”

It’s the first time she’s said his name to his face and they seem to realise it simultaneously.

He blinks once, twice.

Then he smirks, looking her over again. As if by switch, a blush rises to her cheeks, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

“You really want me to answer that?” His voice is low and husky and goddamn, she swears he does it on purpose.

Beth takes a step back; takes a breath.

Calm, she can be calm.

“What’s the favour?”

He looks at her but this time it’s different. He’s sizing her up and he looks tired, too, she realises.

“Need you to look after my kid.”

Her frown is deep, her lips parting once more. Beth didn’t think he was still capable of saying anything that could shock her, but she’s floored.

“ _What_?”

“Just for a few days.”

She stares back, trying to figure out whether she’s fallen into the Twilight Zone.

“…I-I don’t understand.”

“His mom’s in the hospital.”

She folds her arms; tries to hold it together.

What in the hell is going on? Why is this man such an utter enigma?

“What’s wrong?”

“That ain’t important.”

She glares.

“Why can’t he stay with you?”

“Still tryin to set my place up.”

Right. After he’d packed up his entire loft right after she’d seen it.

Except… there’s something in his eyes that tells her that’s not completely true. There’s some other part of the story he’s not telling her.

“And there’s nobody else?”

“Yea, I ain’t on the best terms with my family right now.”

“Imagine that.”

She’s the one smirking now, because she can think of about a million ways he’d likely pissed off various family members.

His face is impassive; she can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“Babysitter?”

“Same problem and besides, I don’t trust em.”

“But you trust _me_?” she asks, quick as a whip.

A small, slow smile grips his lips before he licks them quickly.

“To take care of lil people,” he nods. “I ain’t seen your resumé or nothin, but I figure you _have_ raised an army of em.”

Beth stares back at him, trying to figure out even a fraction of this man made up of questions and lies; wondering whether she’ll ever find any answers.

Without a word, she turns and walks away.

Her hand’s on the door handle and she thinks he might just let her walk away, but it’s not that easy. It’s never that easy with him, is it?

“You gonna do it?”

Beth presses her eyes closed, hating herself, because what else is there for her to say?

“Yes.”


	2. Do Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so entirely overwhelmed by the love and encouragement from this fandom. Thank you so incredibly much. I hope you keep enjoying!

She’s sitting on the sofa worrying when the car pulls up.

It’s probably the first time he’s actually pulled into her driveway, and she takes another sip of water – which she desperately wishes were bourbon – before going to open the front door.

Rio is juggling about four different bags while answering questions in a murmur she can’t hear as his son delays climbing out of the black Cadillac.

Finally they make it to her and Beth can’t help it, her eyes pass over Rio – recognising him as a father once again, which always feels alien – before they go down to his son, clad in pajamas.

“Hi. What’s your name?”

“This is Marcus. Marcus, say hey to…”

“Miss Beth,” she fills in for him. It’s what all her children’s friends call her. “Hi, Marcus.”

“Hello,” he greets a little shyly, but with a small smile that shows off his missing tooth.

“Come on in.”

She doesn’t make eye contact with Rio as she steps aside to let them in. Nor does she when she takes them upstairs and shows Marcus where he’ll be sleeping, or when she stands aside as he settles in with his iPad.

She’s at the edge of the room, hovering at the door, when Rio crouches and whispers assurances to his son. She tries to gauge from his face what Rio’s saying, but the boy’s expression is mostly just earnest as he nods.

Finally Rio roughs up his hair affectionately then lays a kiss on his forehead. Feeling an emotion she can’t name, Beth forces herself to turn away.

* * *

Rio meets her downstairs, in the kitchen.

She wishes he would just leave without a word, but again, that would be too easy.

So she clears her throat; fills the space.

“Is there anything I should know? Allergies, medicines? A school address would be helpful.”

He stops on the other side of the counter.

“Naw, none o’ those. And he ain’t goin to school.”

Wait, what?

“What do you mean?”

“You ain’t gotta worry about that.”

“But you’re worried?”

She can tell from his face – there’s tension written all over it, and for once she knows it isn’t because of her.

“Stop makin assumptions about me, Elizabeth.”

That stops her short. What else is he referring to?

Then she remembers.

_So, listen, I wish I could help._

_You could. You choose not to._

He sighs. “All you gotta do is keep him alive for three days, alright? That’s it.”

“That’s it,” she repeats quietly, mostly out of disbelief.

She can’t wrap her head around the fact that Rio – crime boss and most frustratingly secretive man in the world – has entrusted her with his son. And, despite it, he won’t give her even an inch.

“Yea. I’ll be by tomorrow.”

He looks at her like she’s dismissed and her stomach knots, prompting her to go after him as he turns away, rounding the island to face him head on.

“That’s really all you’re gonna tell me?”

Her tone is combative and his jaw ticks as he rocks back on his heels.

There’s a sigh in his voice: “What more you wanna know?”

Besides everything?

_Keep him alive_

She clears her throat. “Is there something I should know? Why is his mother in the hospital?”

Realisation seems to dawn, and finally his mask cracks as he laughs.

“Oh, you think you in danger?”

“Am I?”

“Have you checked your job recently, sweetheart? You always in danger.”

Beth scoffs. “I don’t work for you anymore.”

He shrugs. “It don’t matter.”

What’s that supposed to mean? Sure, she hadn’t exactly handed in her resignation, but considering he’d just picked up and left, she’d assumed she was no longer associated with him.

Still, that’s not what’s important right now.

“ _What’s wrong with his mother_?”

He regards her for a moment, then: “It’s an illness; one o’ those hereditary things. Marina just needs her treatment, it’s all good. Just came on suddenly.”

 _Marina_. That’s Marcus’ mother’s name. Rio doesn’t even seem to realise he’s let it slip and her mind whirls, searching for the right next question.

“How’s Marcus?” He cocks his head and she rolls her eyes. “How’s he handling it? Especially the part about having to spend the night at a stranger’s house.”

Which begs the question: where is _Rio_ sleeping tonight? She tries not to think of the answer.

He shrugs. “Kid’s resilient. Misses his mom, but he knows it’s just a coupla days.” She opens her mouth to speak, but he beats her to it: “I’ll text you, alright? Everythin you need to know. All his stuff’s in his bags and if anything’s missin, I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

She bites on the inside of her cheek, recognising his tone. It’s the one he uses when he’s done with a conversation. She hates it. Primarily because it usually means she still has about a thousand questions left, and this time is no different.

“Ok.”

She steps aside and doesn’t turn around to watch him go.

Instead her mind is on the boy upstairs and how in the hell she’s going to do this.

* * *

It’s 11.30pm.

Rio’s text said Marcus is supposed to go to sleep at 8, but considering he’d only gotten here at 10, 10.30 is fine. So now seems like a good time to check.

Beth tiptoes her way to the bedroom then slowly opens the door.

The night light is on – Rio must have switched it on – so she immediately sees Marcus's wide open eyes.

“You're awake,” she frowns.

“Sorry, Miss Beth. I couldn't sleep.”

Smiling gently, she makes her way over.

“That's ok.”

She takes a seat next to him and he shifts a little to make more space for her. _God_ , _he's sweet_.

“I remember when I was about your age, I hated sleeping anywhere that wasn't home,” she confides. “I would struggle so much to fall asleep.” Beth sighs thoughtfully. “And, honestly, I think I would've struggled tonight, too.”

“How come?”

“Well, I have four kids. You've seen them before at the park, do you remember?”

He hesitates, thinking, then nods.

Figuring his parents are – by all appearances – divorced, she continues, assuming he'll understand.

“They're with their dad tonight and I really miss them.”

Marcus lowers his eyes sadly.

“I miss my mom.”

Her heart aches for him, as memories of her own mother suddenly come at breakneck speed. There’d been hospital visits with her, too.

Forcing the frog out of her throat, she speaks.

“I know, buddy.”

They wallow in this for a few moments before, sitting up straighter, she pastes on a smile.

“How do you feel about cookies, Marcus?”

It has the intended effect: he looks confused then intrigued.

“…Mom says I'm not allowed to have them before bed.”

“Uh huh… ok. And what about if you make them yourself?”

His eyes light up like only a kid's can when they've been handed a million-dollar excuse to have cookies before bed.

“Maybe.”

“Well, then let's go make some cookies!”

* * *

Danny likes baking with her.

He's the only one who'd gotten the baking gene and not all that much of it, either. Every few months he'll join her in the kitchen for an hour or so, before finding something more exciting to get up to with Kenny.

She puts his apron on Marcus then sets out her recipe books.

“Choose us a recipe and then I'll check if I have everything.”

Marcus nods like she's just entrusted him with coordinating a moon landing and she smiles to herself before going to preheat the oven.

She gets out the cookie cutters – which make her think derisively of Dean – and by the time she's laid out a good array, Marcus has made his pick.

He points happily and she reads, just in case he can't: "Brownie cookies?"

He nods enthusiastically and she grins. She loves making brownies.

“Good choice.”

He grins too and she gets to work piling out the ingredients in front of them as Marcus pores over the book, sounding out some words while racing over others. _Pecans_ and _cocoa powder_ are easy but _all-purpose flour_ takes some doing, as does _bicarbonate of soda_.

“Are you in fourth grade, Marcus?”

“Uh huh,” he nods.

A thought occurring to her, she bites her lip.

“Do you know why you aren't going to school tomorrow?”

He shrugs. “Dad says I'm taking leave.”

Beth just stares, not quite knowing what to do with that. She supposes, in a way, it's good to know she's not the only one on the receiving end of Rio’s ever-cryptic answers.

“Leave is normally for grown-ups.”

“I said that!”

She smirks. “Really? What did he say?”

“He asked why that matters.”

God, the man is infuriating.

But Marcus seems unbothered, staring at the picture of the cookies hungrily, and she forces herself to make peace, at least for the moment, with the fact that there are too many Rio questions that will never have answers.

“Ok, let's get to work, shall we?”

* * *

“This,” Beth says, dipping her finger into the batter, “is the best part of baking cookies.”

“Doesn't it make you sick?”

She nods. “It can make your tummy really hurt. But there's a trick to it. Wanna know what it is?”

He nods enthusiastically and she holds up her batter-covered finger.

“Only eating this much.”

Marcus grins toothily then sticks his own finger in before pulling it out, covered in chocolatey goodness. She makes a toast with their fingers and he giggles before popping his finger into his mouth.

Beth does too, unable to keep the smile off her face.

She wants to wrap this little boy up inside herself and never let him go. And she knows it's because she wants her own kids here with her and she's lonely and he's an actual freaking baking protégé – but none of that makes her feel it any less. She's already not sure how she's going to give him back.

“Ok, cutting and baking time. But first...”

Marcus holds up his hands knowingly and she points him to the sink, putting out the little stool so he can reach, and then helps him wash his hands. She washes hers too, then dries both of theirs thoroughly before they head back to begin shaping cookies.

* * *

Beth bites into a warm cookie and it makes her happy, she can’t lie.

She’s always found baking to be its own reward, but she has to admit that she enjoys the results of it too.

Marcus is halfway into his second cookie and his smile is so pure, her heart aches.

She wonders if Danny is warm right now and if Dean remembered to give him his stuffed animal that helps him go to sleep better than any warm milk ever could. She wonders if Kenny argued about going to bed at his real bedtime, which he insists is half an hour earlier than it should be. She wonders if Jane would have nightmares, and if Emma had crawled into Dean’s bed because she’s sneaky like that sometimes.

“Miss Beth?” Marcus says, drawing her from her reverie.

“Uh huh?”

“You make really good cookies.”

She smiles slowly, her heart warming.

“I think you mean _we_ make really good cookies.”

“Can I have some more milk?”

For just a second she wonders whether it’s coincidence, kid-like attention span – or if he’d actually just complimented her in order to get what he wanted.

 _He’s not Rio_ , she admonishes herself, before promptly nodding and heading towards the kitchen.

When she returns with the milk, though, there’s a question at the edge of her tongue.

“So I heard your dad moved recently…”

She sits back down and passes him the milk. He thanks her then shrugs.

“Yeah.”

Trying weirdly hard to not sound suspect considering how young he is, she clears her throat.

“Do you know where to?”

“Dad said I shouldn’t ever answer if anyone asks me that.” He looks up at her thoughtfully, eyes wide and earnest. “D’you think he’d want me to tell you?”

And maybe it’s the kid-like innocence or the fact that he’s genuinely seeking her counsel while she’s trying to manipulate him, but Beth can’t do it.

“No, um, your dad’s right. That’s a really good rule.”

 _Especially when your father’s a crime lord_ , she doesn’t add.

Marcus nods like that was his first instinct too, and she mentally curses at herself.

Then she turns to Marcus.

“Do you want to watch TV?”

It’s past midnight now but she still can’t sleep, and based on how wide his eyes are, she doesn’t think he’s getting there any time soon either.

He grins wide and nods. “Do you have Green Arrow?”

“Uhhh,” Beth frowns. “You know what? I’m pretty sure we can find it.”

He bops happily, and she does actually manage to find the animated show and, after he’s finished up with his cookies and milk, he lies down, making sure to kick off his shoes.

Thinking of the way Rio had run his hand over his hair earlier, she does the same, and Marcus shifts, laying his head on her leg. So she doesn’t move her hand, letting his tiny head warm it, and she settles in to watch the adventures of the Green Arrow.

* * *

Her phone’s ringing.

Her neck hurts and her phone’s still ringing.

She opens her eyes and notes two things: daylight is streaming into the house and she’s on a couch.

Crap. She’d ended up sleeping here. Her gaze immediately flies to Marcus, but he looks comfortably curled up at the end of the couch, a blanket wrapped around him. She vaguely remembers doing that.

Her phone is still ringing and Beth pries herself off the couch then goes in search of it, eventually finding it on the kitchen counter beside their finished cookies.

“Hello?” she answers, too half-asleep to bother checking the caller ID.

“Shit, why you takin so long to answer? You had me worried.”

It takes her a whole second to realise it’s Rio, another to process his words and then a third to understand that he’s upset.

“I was asleep.” Then, catching sight of the clock: “It’s before 7, what’s wrong?”

A beat passes and then he sighs.

“Wanted to check on Marcus.”

“Well, he’s still asleep too.”

“But he ok?”

She glances over at the little boy then turns around, heading to turn on the coffee machine.

“You can’t do this.”

“What?”

“Act like I’m on the clock.”

“You don’t check on your kids?”

“Not before 7am, and not with an attitude.”

“Why you always gotta make everything difficult?”

“Oh, that’s _hilarious_ , coming from you.”

“Elizabeth, is my son ok?”

There’s no wiggle room in his tone. _Don’t fucking make me ask again_ , it seems to growl.

“He’s fine,” she stresses. Then, annoyed: “I would tell you if he wasn’t.”

“Well then next time pick up your damn phone,” he snarls, and then the line goes dead.

Beth stares at her phone, trying to figure out what in the hell had just happened.

* * *

He shows up after her shift at Boland Motors.

She finishes washing her hands in the ladies’ room, checks that her lipstick is still in place, then pulls open the door and jolts when she sees him standing there.

“What the hell?!”

He shrugs. “Came to check on my kid.”

He enters as if she’s invited him in and she’s forced to step back before closing the door and turning the lock, trying to hide the blush at how familiar this situation is for them.

“You do know that you may as well take care of him yourself at this point, right?”

He ignores her.

“He doin ok?”

She folds her arms. He’d just seen him, so he must be enquiring after the same thing she had last night.

“He’s sad. Misses her. But you’re right, he’s resilient.”

He nods slowly and she eyes him, knowing he has more to say.

“Imma need you to do better.”

“ _Excuse me_?”

“When I call, you gotta answer. When I wanna talk to him, you lemme talk to him. That’s how this is gonna work.”

She scoffs. “You don’t get to give me orders, I’m not on your payroll. I’m doing you a _favour_.”

“So then do it right.”

He’s standing near the hand roll – which is also a memory trigger, but she tries not to think about it – and she approaches, her eyes narrowed.

“What is this really about? Why do you keep getting so upset?”

Sure, Rio’s not the world’s calmest man, but there had also been no reason for his freakout on the phone this morning.

“He’s my son. Ain’t that enough?”

“No. Something’s going on and you’re going to tell me or you can take _your_ _son_ right back.”

He pushes off the wall and reflexively she takes a step back as he charges, snarling.

“You ain’t in charge here.”

It makes her cement her feet.

“Then take him back.”

He stares her down but she doesn’t let up and after a growl, he turns away.

“All you gotta do is be reachable, a’ight? It ain’t that difficult. And be a little more aware.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The play area here – anyone can just walk in.”

“There are child minders.”

“Yea, and they can be bought or distracted.”

She frowns, genuinely wondering whether he’s lost his mind. “By _whom_?”

“That don’t matter.”

“God, you’re frustrating.”

She turns away, looking at herself in the mirror. Why is she putting herself through this? Is it because it’s him? Is it because it’s the right thing to do? Is it because that kid had crawled right into her heart faster than even his father had?

There are several silent moments as they both take the time to let their tempers peter off.

Eventually he speaks again, his voice quiet; compromising.

“Just… be careful, mami. You can never be too careful, alright? Keep your eyes open; you see something, anythin, you let me know.”

“ _Wait, what_? What would I see?”

He shrugs. “Anything outta the ordinary.”

It’s what makes her turn away from the mirror to face him.

“You do know you're scaring me? The less you tell me, the more I worry.”

He rolls his shoulders. “That ain’t necessary.”

“Then just explain what’s going on. You obviously want me to protect Marcus from something – how can I do that if you won’t tell me what it is?”

He shifts, uncertain, before sighing defeatedly.

“There's a new player in town. Well, not new, but... he ain't been here in a while.”

She frowns.

“How long?”

“Years.” He hesitates before meeting her eyes. “Me and Nico, we got beef.”

 _Nico_. That’s who Rio’s worried about. Would he come after Marcus, though?

“How bad?”

“Bad.”

“What happened?”

“That ain't important.”

She glares but can see he isn’t going to let up on that one, so she sighs.

“Then what's important?”

He sticks his hands in his back pockets.

“I shut everythin down when I left and now I'm back, I'm tryna set things back up again and he ain't makin it easy. I gotta take care of it.”

Her eyes widen.

“How?”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he smiles, amused. “No bloodshed. Just some strategic thinkin. Offering buyers what they can't get nowhere else, that kinda thing. It ain't a problem, I know what I'm doin.”

She sizes him up thoughtfully and this time she’s confident that he’s telling her the truth and she thinks _fine_. That’s fine. She can deal with that.

Except…

“If that's true, why do you keep having your worried face on?”

He raises a brow, halfway between confused and unimpressed. “I don't got a worried face.”

“Yeah, you do. It's like your normal face, but a bit more constipated.”

And she can’t help the smirk that slips onto her face, because he doesn’t have strings on her anymore. She can say anything she wants to him. He’s no longer her boss and, considering she’s looking after his son, he’s also indebted to her.

She can tell from the look in his eyes that he’d followed the same line of thought and he looks that dangerous kind of amused.

“Still too quick gettin cocky, huh? A'ight.” He steps closer. “I'll tell you.”

She shifts and he watches her, already drawing some sort of twisted pleasure from whatever he’s about to say.

“Marina, she ain't a part of all o' this. She safe; she off limits. But you? You a part of the game, sweetheart, and that means if someone takes a shot, you standin right in front of me.” He takes another step closer till he is right in front of her, looking down at her. “So you do what you gotta, I don't give a shit if you learn taekwondo or hire private security, but you take care of my son and you do it good.”

His lip turns up but it’s not amused or even mocking. It’s threatening.

“Or there'll be hell to pay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	3. Player One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for your feedback! It really warms my heart and keeps me going!

Beth checks her rearview mirror for the third time in as many minutes.

She hasn’t noticed anyone following her, but she can’t be sure.

The kids are in the backseat, talking over each other excitedly as they ask Marcus a million questions. He fields them well considering he knows nothing.

“Are you staying tomorrow night too, Marcus?” Jane grins as Kenny asks which games Marcus likes and Danny wonders if he knows what they’re having for dinner.

She’d been extra paranoid leaving Dean’s place because she couldn’t have anyone knowing where her children stayed half the time – though she wasn’t really sure what use that was when Rio had made it pretty clear that all his associates know about her, including where she lives.

After he’d left the bathroom, it had taken a few minutes for her to stop shaking.

Working with him had altered the DNA of her life – Annie had been right, they couldn’t just quit. Even now that she was out of it, she’d always be considered as – how had he put it – _a part of the game_. And she supposes it doesn’t help that she’s still washing money.

His associates are still her associates and she’d never thought about how dangerous that could be. Her only taste had been with that drug den, but those had been their clients. Never before had she considered that he would have enemies; that his enemies would be her enemies.

The kids giggle in the backseat and she checks her rearview mirror again.

* * *

“What’s up, big sis?” Annie struts in.

“Hey,” Beth greets, adding some dried herbs into the pot.

“What’s the big news?”

“We should wait for Ruby,” she hedges.

“Ugh,” Annie rolls her eyes.

She goes over to look out the window, where the kids are playing outside.

“How’d things go with Deansie?”

Beth nods slowly. Really, she’d been too shaken to pay him much attention, but he’d seemed fine. He’d smiled at her as he updated her on the kids, and their discussion about the next pickup and dropoff had been brief but cordial. She’d also noticed that he’d begun adding his own touches to the apartment, which told her he was settling in nicely.

“Ok; I think he’s doing well.”

“Did _not_ ask about his mental state,” Annie rolls her eyes. “Hey, does one of the kids have a friend over, or am I still a little drunk from last night and seeing double?”

Beth opens her mouth to answer but suddenly Annie’s mouth drops open with a gasp.

“Wait – is that whose kid I think it is??”

Beth winces, about to answer, when Ruby walks in.

“Brought you bitches doughnuts.”

Thank god. She’s going to need sugar to get through this conversation.

But Ruby immediately notes the vibe in the room and the look of uncontained incredulity on Annie’s face.

“What’s going on?”

Annie does a weird cackle that’s half shaken and half intrigued.

“Gangfriend is back!”

“What??” Ruby gasps.

Beth sighs. “Can I have a doughnut, please?”

Ruby shoves the box towards her, clearly recognising that she needs it before she can even begin to describe the situation.

“And that’s not even the best part,” Annie informs her. “Beth’s his new baby momma, or something!”

Ruby’s eyes dart down to Beth’s stomach and she gasps, covering it with her doughnut-free hand.

“Annie, can you _shut up_?” Then, to Ruby: “I’m not pregnant. I’m just looking after his son.”

She cocks her head. “Ok, that’s almost more confusing.”

Ruby takes a seat beside Annie as Beth bites into the cinnamon-sugar doughnut.

“He showed up at the dealership last night and told me that his ex is in hospital and he has no one else to leave Marcus with.”

“Marcus being the world’s cutest devil spawn?” Ruby asks.

Beth nods with a shrug, her mouth full of doughnut.

“Is that why he’s back?”

“And is he _back_ back?” Annie asks. “Like, for good?”

“I don’t know!” Beth throws up her hands. “I mean, I think so. Earlier he said–”

“Wait, you’re having regular meetings with him?” Ruby interrupts.

“No, he just keeps _showing up_ to check on his son.”

“Wow,” Ruby’s eyes widen, “did _not_ pin him down as a helicopter parent.”

“Oh, he’s not. Apparently there’s some turf war going on and we’re right in the middle of it.”

“Wait, _what_??” Annie’s mouth hangs open.

“Yeah,” Beth bites out before getting more doughnut in her face.

“Bitch, we’re out. How does that work?”

“Yeah, I mean, he fired us, right?” Annie points out. “Well, mostly you, but…”

She smiles when Beth glares at her, then slowly continues her train of thought.

“If there’s a gang war and he keeps showing up… and we’re not as completely out of it as we thought…” Her eyes shoot open wider. “Should we be concerned about drive-bys??”

“Oh god,” Beth moans. “I don’t know.”

“Well, homeboy better clear things up!”

“What are _you_ worried about?” Annie scoffs. “You’re married to a cop.”

“Yeah, a cop, not a bulletproof vest. And _you_ live in an apartment, so a drive-by is kind of a moot point.”

“Gang members can climb stairs,” Annie points out but quietly, knowing Ruby has a point.

“So, if we’re not out, are we back in?”

Beth shrugs. “He hasn’t said anything. All he said was that he’s trying to get his business back up and running. And that I’m in charge of keeping Marcus alive.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“What a fuckin turn of events,” Annie whistles.

“Yeah.”

“Gangfriend really is all about the surprise factor.”

And – _yeah_.

* * *

It had taken the kids longer than usual to do their homework and she’s only just finished helping, leaving them for playtime.

Beth heads to the kitchen, mind already on what she’s going to cook. She’d defrosted a whole chicken this morning, but what should she make with it? Veg? Potatoes? Both?

She’s about to turn back to check with Marcus if there’s anything he doesn’t eat when she spots Rio coming in through her back door.

“Oh my god, you have _got_ to stop doing that!”

“Yea, it’s too damn easy. You should think about investing in better security,” he points out with a shrug.

Which is completely false, but she’s prevented from arguing when she remembers his earlier words.

_So you do what you gotta, I don't give a shit if you learn taekwondo or hire private security, but you take care of my son and you do it good._

And suddenly all the anger he’d left her with comes back, along with the fear and, _god_ , was he just implying Nico and his guys could get into her house??

“Why wouldn't you tell me that?” she charges at him, nostrils flaring.

Rio looks surprised by this sudden mood change, his brows furrowing.

“Tell you what?”

“That being involved with you doesn’t just mean being investigated by the FBI, it also means drawing a giant target on me and my family!”

He stares at her for a good long moment before a smirk grows.

“You still think this the Lil League, huh? This the big leagues, mami; if you ain't winnin' then you losing, and they all losers out there,” he points out the window. “'Member what I told you about being king?”

_To be the king, you gotta kill the king._

She nods.

“Well, everybody wants to be king, darlin.”

Her blood seems to freeze, not least because of the casual way he says it.

In her mind she imagines hearing on the news that a Detroit kingpin had been gunned down. Imagines turning to the TV and seeing Rio, riddled with bullets.

The thought makes her so queasy, she feels like she needs to sit down.

But Rio’s laughing and it's a little feral; mean. “I mean, not everybody _can_ be, but they all wanna try. All wanna do some stupid shit to prove they as good as me.”

He looks at her pointedly, clearly trying to remind her of the day she'd put him in jail.

_You tryin to put me away and all, you must got big plans. But, see, you didn't think things all the way through._

She bites on the inside of her lip, shame replacing fear, and she does her best to force her mortified blush to dissipate.

Her career is not what's important here right now. Her family. They're what's important.

“Are they?”

_Is anyone?_

Is anyone good enough to outsmart him? Is Nico? If Rio’s life being in danger equals the lives of her and her loved ones being in danger, then she has to know.

 _They’re what has to come first_ , she chastises herself. _Not him._

And she knows that; feels it. But she also can’t get the image of his lifeless eyes out of her mind.

“Oh, no one's as _good_ as me, sweetheart,” he rolls his shoulders cockily, stepping towards her with a smirk. “You in the game with player one.”

A thrill runs through her body at the way he says _good_ , remembering just everything he’s good at, starting with the tongue he’s currently running over his lip.

Still, she forces herself to focus.   

“I don't want _to be_ in the game.”

“Oh, you love sayin shit like that, don't you?”

_I don't wanna make noise._

_I don't wanna be 'somethin'._

His look is pressing, cutting, and she falters.

“I-I just want to know my family is safe.”

“That's just words wit' you, sweetheart. You know it sounds good, so you open your mouth and recite it and on the real, I'm gettin pretty damn tired of hearin it. Once you know what you are, you let me know, a'ight?”

And it sounds like a question but it's a command; his hard eyes vilifying. She tries her best to meet it but it's useless – he's cut her all the way down and he knows it.

“Now Imma go hang with my son.”

He passes her and she wants to reach out and make him stay but she doesn't because he's made her feel awful, like an alien in her own body; like she’s in sheep's clothing and is too stupid to accept that she’s the wolf.

Nothing he'd said had rung false – nothing he says about her ever does – and she doesn't know how to reconcile that with the part of her that's been a protector for as long as she can remember.

How can you be a shield while choosing to be a target?

Maybe that's why she'd wanted to reach out; to make him stay. To ask how he does it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Family dinner!


	4. More Foreplay

Beth checks her watch.

It’s ten more minutes before her shift will be over; thirty before Dean arrives.

She’s heading to her office anyway, so she looks over at her secretary.

“Enya, do I have any more appointments?”

“Yip, one last one. With a Christopher.”

Beth stops in her tracks.

“Christopher?”

“Uh huh.”

“What's his last name?”

Enya squints into the diary, probably trying to make out the other secretary's handwriting.

Beth had insisted on getting her own one, someone she knew for a fact hadn't slept with Dean. When she'd been upfront about that requirement during the interview, Enya had shrugged: _I'm a raging lesbian so I don't think that's gonna be a problem._

“...The letter Q,” she sighs. Enya hates Dean's secretary, which gives Beth a touch of petty delight.

“Sounds like the one I'm thinking of,” she sighs too. “When he gets here, send him straight in, ok? Don't make him wait.”

 _Or he may murder you_ , she doesn’t add.

She heads into her office and immediately starts arranging things to look neater than they already are, adjusts her clothing and spritzes on some perfume.

She's just sat down when there's an ironic knock on the door and she rolls her eyes before telling him to come in.

“Hey,” he smirks, eyes roving over her behind her desk, deliberately taking her back to that night.

She shifts; tries not to squirm.

“Since when do you make appointments?”

He shrugs. “Figured may as well make it all official and shit.”

He drops into the chair opposite her.

 _It_?

“What are you referring to?”

“'Member when I said I'm getting my operation back up and running?”

She nods.

“Well, that includes you, now that you all clear and whatnot. If you into it.”

She watches him carefully but as far as she can tell, he's being truthful, and she looks away, mulling it over.

“You know yet?”

“Know what?”

He doesn't answer, just stares, forcing her to remember what he'd said the other night.

_Once you know what you are, you let me know, a'ight?_

Does she?

Does it matter?

She's in danger either way, right?

“If I were to come back on board, no more deliveries. You get guys to do it.”

There's no way she's going back to 5am mornings and never getting to see her kids. Her offering her dealership and doing all the admin, making sure to be more careful this time, is more than enough.

He shrugs surprisingly easily.

“A'ight. I'll take care of it.”

“That's it?”

“You wanted more foreplay?”

She blushes hot red and he smirks, triumphant.

“You never agree to anything that easily,” she points out, trying to regain some semblance of the upper hand.

He waves his hand. “I want you, I got you. And you sucked at deliveries, anyway.”

She glares but his smile goes all the way to his eyes, letting her know he's just teasing.

Which allows his previous words to work their way up her neck in another flash of warmth.

 _I want you, I got you_.

“Then I'm back in,” she clears her throat. “Fifty-fifty.”

He nods with an impatient tongue click – as if that goes without saying at this point. It makes her feel oddly respected.

“You gonna clear it wit' your hubby?”

Shit. She'll have to.

“ _Ex_ -husband, actually.”

He whistles low. “That right?”

She nods. “It's nearly official.”

“Guess your hair ain't all that changed, huh?”

And god, is he intending to let even _a moment_ pass without making her turn the same new shade of her hair?

“It _was_ six weeks.”

And it hadn't felt like he'd noticed. She'd been waiting for him to say something that first night at the dealership, but he hadn't, and she'd assumed he was either a typical man about these things or didn't care.

“You look like a boss bitch,” he grins and she rolls her eyes, forcing herself not to outwardly appear flattered and instead get back to the conversation at hand.

“I'll cut him in,” she decides. “He can take my extra five percent.”

The girls each get 15 and she gets 20, for having to deal with Rio and putting the dealership at risk, but she's sure Dean would jump at the extra income and it's worth it, to get him off her back.

“Cool. You lemme know if you got problems.”

She's still trying to process that uncharacteristically nice offer – albeit thinly veiling a lethal threat at Dean – when he’s up and at the door.

“Oh yeah, I'm takin the kid.”

“What? Why?”

He shrugs. “He got archery practice and it's the one thing he ain't gonna be good wit' missing.”

“He does archery?”

He rolls his eyes with an annoyed snort.

“Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?”

“That shit's expensive. And it ain't even useful,” he points out. “Someone steps to him, what's he gonna do? Run home and fetch his bow and arrow?”

She can't help it, she laughs at the imagery.

“Hey, don't dismiss it. Have you seen the Green Arrow?”

“Have I _seen_ it? Think you mean _can I recite it_. That shit's the reason he so obsessed with archery to begin with.”

Now she's fully laughing, imagining Rio watching Green Arrow all day against his will, and he smiles too, rolling his eyes.

“...Well, you don't have to take him. I can do that.”

She feels weirdly bad about how much Rio's still around when she's supposed to be taking care of Marcus. She knows he must have other things to do and she's used to being busy with children's schedules.

“Naw, it's good. Lets me spend some time with him. Imma also take him for dinner after, so he'll be back late.”

She blinks back at him and then, she swears, the words just escape.

“Why don't you join us for dinner?”

His brow shoots up and he blinks, looking slightly confused.

“...I don't wanna impose.”

She thinks of pointing out that imposing is pretty much all he does in her life, but quells the urge.

“You wouldn't be – I mean, I was gonna cook enough for him anyway.”

He re-aligns his shoulders, sizing her up, then nods.

“A'ight. What time?”

“6.30.”

“I'll see you at six.”

She nods and he smirks sneakily.

“You makin spaghetti?”

“Don't push it.”

And she can still hear him chuckling after he's left her office, all the way to the play area.

* * *

She makes fajitas and everyone has a second helping, including Rio.

The kids are all still fascinated by Marcus’ archery and the tales he’s brought back with him, only spurred on by her forbidding his equipment coming inside the house. Rio had said it was expensive, and she’d died several deaths imagining any one of her children dropping it.

“Mom, can I do archery?” Kenny asks.

She shoots Rio a _See what you’ve done_ look before glancing at Kenny.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s too far.”

“Mr Rio, can you take me when you take Marcus?”

“No,” he says easily.

“Why?”

“’Cuz your mom said no,” Rio informs him, meeting her eyes. She rolls them and he smiles a little.

“Pleeeeease, Mommy?”

It always slips back into _Mommy_ when he wants something, which both tugs at her heart and annoys her.

“Sure,” she says, and his eyes go huge.

“Really?”

“Uh huh. If you bring home an A at the end of the year.”

“Including math,” Rio adds, smug.

Kenny looks like he may just murder them both then sinks lower into his seat sulkily.

“Mr Rio,” Jane pipes up. “Did it hurt when they drew the bird on your neck?”

His gaze flits to her and she tries to beam over the message that his answer better not encourage tattoos in any way.

“Not really,” he settles on.

“Did you have to sit really still for a really long time?” Danny wonders.

Rio smirks. “Yea.”

“Doesn’t _your_ dad have a bird?” Marcus wonders.

“No,” Emma shakes her head a bit sadly, like this is a parental feature they’d somehow been deprived of.

“But once he put a plate of spaghetti on his top,” Jane informs him, giggling.

Beth flushes red as Rio’s eyes go to her questioningly and she looks down at her plate. She’d much rather forget that whole night, and not just because of Dean’s histrionics.

_That’s what I am? Work?_

_Pretty much, yeah._

Her eyes dance over the meal that she’d spent forever obsessing over, knowing he’d be eating it.

She thinks about his son’s head on her leg and beneath her palm; about Annie calling her his new baby momma.

Is this still just a work relationship to him? Or had it just been a very good lie from the beginning?

Who entrusts their child in the care of a colleague?

But now, of course, they _are_ colleagues again and she’s not really sure how she feels about that. On some level, it feels good to know she’ll have an excuse to see him even after Marcus has left.

But it also makes things murky again, and she hates the uncertainty that leaves her with.

Although, maybe he’d been onto something. Maybe just being colleagues is better. Maybe they can finally go back to before that stupid night she’d let him follow her into the bathroom; go back to her stonewalling all his subtle advances.

 _He’s just a natural flirt and you let yourself indulge_ , she assures herself, not letting her mind go to the way he’d touched her hand when she handed over the money or _It’s ok, you did your best_ , or any of his other gentle glances.

Ok, maybe they’re colleagues _with history_. But they’re colleagues. They can do that. They can make this work.

She’s not at all following wherever the conversation has gone without her until Jane directs a question right at her.

 “Mommy, why don’t you cry?”

Beth’s head jerks up to regard her daughter.

“What??”

“Jess says her mom cries every night,” Jane offers more context.

Beth frowns before remembering that Jessica’s mother is Alison, who is currently undergoing a messy divorce from Brad. He’d come to one of Beth’s poker games and hit on her.

“Don’t you miss daddy?” Danny adds and _oh, god_.

Beth sputters and is about to deliver the most diplomatic bullshit she can think up in the next five milliseconds when Rio speaks.

“Y’all like ice cream?”

It’s almost comedic the way every single child’s head whips to him with the speed of light.

“I was gonna take Marcus for some ice cream, if y’all wanna come. And if your momma says it’s cool,” he adds.

And in five seconds he’s gotten all four of her children from pressing for information on her mental state to feverishly begging her to let them go for ice cream, divorce entirely forgotten.

* * *

“You gonna lend me your momma van?”

She turns to regard Rio, who’s busy lifting the plate with the tortillas.

“Or you comin too?” he pops a brow.

Getting three of the kids’ plates and the plate with the chicken, she starts heading towards the kitchen.

She’d sent the children to get on coats and shoes, leaving them alone with the quiet and dishes.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

She hopes he hears the _thank you_ buried deep beneath that.

“I really was gonna take Marcus for ice cream,” his voice comes from behind as he follows her.

She smiles. Of course he was.

Beth starts pulling out Tupperware for the leftover food.

“You do that often?”

He shrugs. “Only when I ain’t feelin so hot about my parenting.”

She stares at him, blinking.

"You’re a good father,” she says, surprised; almost accusatory.

She thinks of his incredibly detailed text telling her everything she needed to know about Marcus; of Marcus asking her if she needed help with the dishes last night. When she’d declined, he’d seemed confused before divulging that his dad had told him to always offer to help his mom with the dishes.

Rio’s prevented from answering when Emma darts into the room, followed closely by Jane, who has her coat on inside out. They’re arguing about something or other and Rio regards her.

“So… ice cream?”

She grins.

“God, yes.”

* * *

“Daddy, where’d you go during practice?” Marcus pipes up from the backseat.

The kids had mostly been talking amongst themselves as she quietly enjoyed her McFlurry and tried to ignore Rio in the passenger seat beside her, but now the little boy leans over into their space curiously.

Rio seems to hesitate, then answers.

“To visit your tía; ‘member she lives nearby?”

“Tía Gabby or Carla?” Marcus wonders and _wait, are these Rio’s sisters?_

“Carla.”

She feels Rio’s gaze on her, but keeps her eyes focused on her ice cream.

“Abuela said tía Carla’s mad at you.”

“Sit down and finish that, alright, Pop? We ‘bout to go.”

And like magic, Marcus does actually sit all the way back down and finish up with his ice cream wordlessly.

It isn’t lost on her that Rio handles his son the same way he does her – cryptic answers and a harsh sort of discipline that for some reason is hard to really hold against him. Of course, there’s always something gentler, more affectionate, in his tone when he talks to his son and she wishes he could give her that too – but, no. _Colleagues._

“Mommy,” Jane speaks up, “how long is Marcus staying?”

She looks over at Rio and now he looks like the one trying to beam her a message, which makes her want to laugh, because she’d have about a thousand percent less problems if she were at all capable of reading his mind.

“Can he stay with us foreverrrr?” Danny asks hopefully before she can answer.

“Mr Rio buys us ice cream,” Emma giggles happily, kicking up her legs.

Beth’s eyes go to Marcus, who’s silent but has a content little smile set on his face.

She wonders if he has a big extended family; if he misses them now that Rio’s on the outs with them. And it makes her happy, somewhere deep down, to know she can fill that hole for him even a little.

Last night he’d gone to sleep nearly immediately and it touched her heart to know he felt comfortable in her home now.

“Why you eatin so slow?” Rio suddenly asks.

“What?”

She’s processing his question when she realises his ice cream is done.

“You don’t know that trick?”

“What trick?” she frowns.

He lowers his voice. “You get em one, finish off yours first, then get another before they done wit’ theirs.”

It surprises her into a laugh. “You really like ice cream, don’t you?”

“Start up the van, ma, that Kenny look like he nearing the end of his.”

And she giggles long and hard as she heads back into the drive-thru.

* * *

Beth rinses off another plate and sets it beside her, ready to go into the dishwasher.

“A’ight, homework’s taken care of,” Rio informs her, entering the kitchen.

She glances at him over her shoulder with a look of contempt that stems from pure envy.

“You got a 9-year-old to do homework after ice cream?”

Her kids are busy shouting and playing upstairs, burning off the sugar before bed. Thank god they’d all done their homework before dinner.

He shrugs animatedly. “He under the impression it’s the only way to get ice cream again next time.”

She scoffs. “You’re really good at getting people to do what you want.”

There’s not much heat behind it; it’s an observation more than anything else. She turns back to the dishes.

“It’s a talent, mami.” He comes closer. “You need help?”

She shakes her head. “I’m almost done.”

He’s only about two steps behind her, making the resulting silence thick and awkward.

There’s so much she wants to ask him; say to him. But none of it will go well, and she’s too high off sugar and the night going so well to spoil it now.

She wonders why he doesn’t just leave. She’ll make sure Marcus is bathed and tucked in – that’s what she’s here for. Dinner’s over, as is dessert. Why hasn’t he left?

But she refuses to break the silence, letting what she’s doing distract her. That is, until he speaks.

“Why don’tchu just ask?”

She stiffens, her eyes closing.

How can he hear he thoughts so clearly? It’s utterly unfair, considering she _never_ knows what he’s thinking.

But he’s basically given her the go-ahead, so she asks.

“Why’s your sister mad at you?”

She figures that’s safe enough. It’s personal – way more personal than he’d ever normally divulge – but it’s also tangentially related to her, seeing as his son is staying with her because of whatever argument had occurred.

“She said somethin to me I didn’t like, so I said somethin back… She didn’t like it so much neither.”

She can only imagine Rio’s version of ‘ _somethin_ ’.

“What was it about?”

“You ain’t gotta concern yourself wit’ that.”

She turns to face him.

“You know, you may have better luck with the women in your life if you stopped telling them what they are or aren’t allowed to be interested in.”

He watches her for a moment before smirking.

“Nice try, but that ain’t what it was about.”

She glares then reaches around him to grab a big glass dish, turning to rinse it.

She decides not to say anything else, hoping he leaves, but then she nearly drops the dish when he passes a hand over her lower back.

She immediately straightens, places it down, then spins to him with a frown.

He’s so close that his scent washes over her and she wants to push him away just so she can breathe.

His eyes go up slowly from her stomach to her breasts then the curve of her neck before finally making it to her eyes.

“Heard from Marina’s doctors today.”

She’s not sure how to react to the sudden change of topic or what it has to do with him touching her.

“They think it’s gonna be another coupla days.”

She frowns. “Oh.”

“Yea. So. Spoke to my sister and it’s all sorted.”

Her frown deepens, trying to figure out what the hell he’s saying.

“I don’t understand. You apologised?”

He hesitates. Then: “Yea.”

Wow. So he actually knows how to.

“And now she’ll look after Marcus?”

“Naw,” he shakes his head. “It wasn’t her. Gabby’s gonna take him. But she was sidin with Carla and so…” He makes a circular motion with his index finger, closing the loop.

She shakes her head, amused but also annoyed.

“You really do have a talent for getting what you want.”

And maybe it’s her tone but he seems suddenly upset, backing up and rolling his shoulders.

“Just make sure Marcus is packed, yea? I’ll come get him around 2.”

He seems like he’s getting ready to leave and she shakes her head.

“Wait.” He does pause, and she clears her throat. “Your ex is only gonna be in the hospital for another two days?”

He regards her then nods jerkily.

“And then Marcus will have to pack up again and go back home?”

He nods again.

“Well then he should just stay here, it makes more sense.”

Slowly he cocks his head.

“You sure?”

It _does_ make the most sense. The poor kid’s mother is in the hospital; the last thing he needs is to be shifted from place to place every time he gets settled.

 _But, also_. His cute little face and decent manners; the way he looks up at her like an angelic little Rio.

She doesn’t want to let him go and it’s all the way stupid, but there nonetheless.

“Yeah, definitely.”

He looks at her with an expression she doesn’t know what to do with, then crosses the space between them in two long strides.

He stops in front of her, even closer than before, and this time she wants to pull him closer and she has no idea why. Why does everything about him – all the mystery, intrigue and half-truths – that makes her want to pull her hair out also make her want to kiss him so damn bad?

“You good with him,” he says, breathing cool air onto her face.

This throws her for a loop for an entire second before she grasps onto a response.

“He’s the sweetest kid – I can’t imagine anyone being bad with him.”

He smirks a little, with just the side of his lip.

“Take the compliment, Elizabeth.”

She shrugs. “I could say the same thing to you.”

He scoffs in that soundless way he has, then regards her seriously.

“You know you ain’t gotta do this.”

She wants to laugh. “I think that’s literally the first time you’ve ever said those words to me.”

“First time you doing me a favour,” he points out.

She rolls her eyes, but his face is serious.

“You know yet?”

Not this again.

“Rio–”

“I ain’t askin for me – you get that, right?”

She presses her lips back together.

She wants to tell him where to get off; that she knows exactly who she is, but god knows that couldn’t be any further from the truth.

His finger comes up and she stares directly at him as he gently moves her hair away from her face, barely brushing against her cheek.

“You said you want your family safe.”

She doesn’t know how to respond, never really does when he touches her like that, so she just nods a little, watching him.

He draws a breath.

“They safe, Elizabeth. You got my word. Ain’t nothin gonna happen to em while you with me.”

It takes her breath away and she wonders: had he always meant to say this to her? Had he just been too upset to say it last night? Or had it been brought on by her offer to keep taking care of Marcus?

“And what about me?” she finds herself asking, because technically he’d only promised for her family and she’d prefer her kids not be left with Dean as their only parent.

And then he smirks, a full one this time.

“Oh, baby, there ain’t nothin safe about you and me.”

She blinks rapidly as his eyes glimmer, the heat behind them curling itself into every part of her body, and then he spins and leaves.

And, Beth thinks, still so hot everywhere: _So much for colleagues_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter has Annie and Rio together, which is lowkey my favourite duo 😅
> 
> Psst, what kind of ice cream do you think Rio orders at McD's?


	5. Real Superior Childcare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for every comment and kudo. I'm still so stunned that anyone likes this and where it's going, and I just hope you'll continue to. This one's a little shorter but the next chapter will make up for it :)

Beth tosses the stained shirt into the laundry hamper then adjusts the new blouse she’d pulled on, not covered in Kenny’s strawberry ice lolly.

She heads out of her bedroom and into the kitchen, planning to get him another, but stops as she passes the backdoor.

Rio’s leaning against the door frame, perpendicular to the doorway; eyes on the children in the yard.

Her own dart all over him, taking in the dark blue t-shirt and his revealed arms. Her glance sticks on the tattoos on his arm then go down to his hips, remembering the hard lines beneath; remembers them against her as he pressed deep inside. 

Then he turns his head, slowly, and with the sunshine coming in behind him, Beth can't help thinking he should be on a GQ cover somewhere.

“H-hi,” she stammers, momentarily paralysed.

Not least because seeing him reminds her of his words last night.

His eyes meet hers and he seems to be thinking along the same lines, his eyes gleaming, before he rolls his shoulders.

“You always leave your kids unattended? Anybody could just walk in,” he informs her, voice gruff.

“ _Anybody_ already does,” she glares pointedly, making her way past him.

But of course he’s right – there’s no one out there with the kids and she grits her teeth together angrily.

“I left Annie out here with them.”

Jane’s nearest and she calls out for her, bringing the girl over.

“Where’s your aunt?”

“Bathroom,” Jane shrugs. “She said she had a pimple.”

Beth sighs. Rio followed her out and is now smirking.

“Real superior childcare.”

She flushes, anger coming with it.

“What are you even _doing_ here?”

“Was in the area; figured I’d come hang with Marcus.”

As if on cue: “Daddy, d’you wanna play soccer?”

Rio immediately darts onto the grassy area towards his son, clapping his hands. “Yea, c’mon, split up; two teams.”

And she watches as he completely takes over the kids’ game but they immediately listen and fall in line as he explains where the goal posts will be.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, Beth lowers till she’s sitting on the step outside her bedroom and watches them. Well. _Him_ , mostly.

The way he rolls the ball between his hands is confident, just like the way he instructs all five children. She watches him pay special attention to Emma, checking that she understands, before straightening back up. 

“A’ight, c’mon, spread out, let’s get goin.”

Marcus is grinning, nearly bopping, and the other children are almost on the same level of excitement and, before Beth knows, there’s a smile on her face too.

Rio’s good with the ball, even as he tones it down for the children, and Beth’s half-considering joining when Annie comes out, bearing two sweating glasses of lemonade.

“Not to freak you out,” she says, “but there’s a gangbanger playing with your kids in your backyard.”

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Beth immediately flips out on her, making Annie’s eyes widen in confusion.

“What?”

“You left them out here alone!”

“For, like, a second!”

It’s been at least five minutes since Beth had come outside, but she’s not even going to point that out.

“Rio’s already paranoid about Marcus’ safety and you’re not helping.”

“Keyword being _paranoid_.”

“You embarrassed me,” Beth glares, but takes the glass of lemonade her sister offers her.

“To a _gangbanger_ , I’m _so_ sorry,” Annie rolls her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

Beth glares at her for another moment before taking a sip of the lemonade. She’d made it fresh this morning, knowing it was going to be a hot day, and it’s perfectly tangy.

“Speaking of gangfriend, what’s up with his kid?” Annie wonders, sitting down beside Beth. “When you were changing your shirt, he came over and said he noticed I hadn’t had an ice lolly, and did I want the rest of his.”

“Yeah,” Beth sighs. “He’s scary nice.”

“He’s nicer than _my_ kid, and that’s damn near impossible to do.”

Beth considers.

“Maybe how polite your children are is inversely related to how messed up you are.”

“Shut up,” Annie shoves her, and they laugh.

It makes Rio turn over, and the way he looks at her makes her freeze up, goosebumps rising on her arms. A smile stutters back onto her face and she thinks it’s dopey but she can’t help it; the heat on the back of her neck no longer just because of the sun.

He turns away quickly again, focusing on the game, but she can’t tear her eyes away from him.

“You know you look at him weird, right?”

Beth’s forgotten Annie’s even there, and she reluctantly turns to her with a frown as her sister’s words register.

“What? Weird, how?”

Annie takes a second to think about it.

“…Like he’s got the answer to a mystical question and if you stare at him hard enough, maybe you’ll be able to figure it out.”

Beth feels huffy.

“Well, that’s pretty accurate. And the question is always ‘ _What the hell is going on_?’.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Annie rolls her eyes. There’s silence for a few seconds, then: “You know I’d be so mad if you two got back together and you didn’t tell me, right?”

“We’re not back together, and we _couldn’t_ get _back_ together because we were never together to begin with.”

“Uh huh.”

Beth rolls her eyes then turns back to the game, watching Rio play goalie. He deliberately lets Emma’s goal in then raises his arms up as he yells, celebrating with her. His t-shirt rides up as he does it and Beth hungrily takes in the few inches of his taut stomach.

Apparently she’s not the only one.

“You know you upgraded, right?” Annie asks, whistling short and low. “Like wayyyy upgraded.”

Beth forces a scoff.

“It’s not an upgrade if nothing’s going on.”

Rio’s giving his team some sort of tactical instruction, weaving his arm, and the muscles in it shift and roil.

Annie lets out a heavy breath. “He doesn’t have a daughter, but _god knows_ every woman that man knows wants to call him daddy.”

“Annie!” she admonishes, shocked, but her sister looks completely unrepentant. 

“Hey, he’s all yours,” she spreads her hands. “I’m just saying I have eyeballs.”

She’s choking on some sort of response when suddenly Rio is a little closer, calling out.

“A, where’s _our_ lemonade at?”

Annie’s eyes go wide.

“Oh. Sorry, I’ll get it!”

She immediately jumps up then gestures for Beth to follow.

Beth rolls her eyes but obligingly gets up and follows her sister into the kitchen. She immediately gets to finding a tray and various plastic glasses for the kids.

“Did you hear that?” Annie grins. “He called me A! We have nicknames!”

Beth glances wearily at her sister. “I think it was more like ‘hey’.”

Annie scoffs, placing a grownup glass on the tray for Rio. “ _That was_ _A_!”

Beth rolls her eyes as she gets out the lemonade and begins pouring. Her sister hops up onto the counter to regard her curiously.

“What’s really going on between you two, anyway? And don’t just say nothing again.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he clearly didn’t just drop off his kid and say sayonara. He’s here like all the time.”

Beth keeps her eyes on what she’s doing, but suddenly she has the irresistible urge to tell her sister; to tell _anyone._

“…He had dinner with us last night.”

“Shut up!” Annie squeals in delight. “He just showed up?”

“No… I invited him.”

“Why?”

And there’s something in her tone that makes Beth remember: Annie may be more on board than Ruby and even openly eyeball Rio, but that doesn’t mean she understands, really, what it is they have between them.

God, _she_ doesn’t even.

 _Bone whoever you want. But I’m telling you right now: this is gonna end bad,_ her sister’s words come back to her.

“To get answers,” she lies.

“And?”

“And he said we don’t have to worry about it. That as long as we’re working with him, he’ll take care of us.”

“So we’re like his homies now?”

Beth glares. “We’re ‘ _like_ ’ his colleagues.”

“And there’s a health insurance plan,” Annie does a happy dance. “So how does it work, exactly? Is there like a gang patrol route or will he just avenge our bullet-ridden bodies?”

And, god, that brings back her mental image from the day before, never mind her sister or Ruby being gunned down.

“I don’t know, Annie,” she bites out, “why don’t you ask him? He’s right outside.”

Annie clicks her tongue in displeasure and Beth ignores her, grabbing up the tray and heading back outside with Annie following.

“Come get lemonade, you guys!”

She sets it down on the table then goes back to her own lemonade, sitting down again.

Rio gets his glass then comes to stand by them.

“Whatchu cookin tonight?”

“Leftovers,” she replies, not looking up.

She doesn’t need Annie making any more analyses of the way she looks at him.

He laughs. Then: “Imma take Marcus to visit his mom tonight.”

She and Annie exchange glances before she looks up at him. But his eyes are on his son.

“You hear that, Pop? Be ready after dinner.”

Marcus grins and nods, coming over and sidling up next to Beth with his lemonade. She lopes an arm around him almost subconsciously, only realising when Rio’s eyes clearly go to where she’s holding his son.

She tries not to react, clearing her throat.

“ _After_ dinner? They’ll let you visit then?”

“Oh, I can do as I please, sweetheart,” he smirks.

“Mom’s in candy,” Marcus adds helpfully.

Beth looks at Rio, confused, and his brows furrow.

“Naw, Pop. A _suite_.”

Marcus whispers conspiratorially: “You can’t eat it.”

Beth can’t help it, she giggles, and Rio looks at her – _like that_ – again before he draws his gaze slowly away, something in his eyes that she can’t decipher.

He finishes his lemonade then goes to replace his glass. Marcus follows and the two exchange words Beth can’t hear but, based on the ruffling hand that goes to Marcus’ head, she thinks it’s a greeting.

“Wait, so he got his ex a suite and paid off the entire hospital staff just so she’s comfy there while she gets her treatment?” Annie whispers, amazed. “I think someone should tell Gregg that the ex-husband bar has been raised all the way to the damn sky.”

“Shut up, Annie,” Beth growls, seeing Rio head back to them.

But Annie doesn’t shut up. She does the opposite of shutting up.

“Hey, boss.”

Rio really pays attention to her for the first time, eyebrow a little quirked.

“Be honest, is my sister getting paid extra for this? Because I wouldn't mind picking up a few shifts; your kid's like if Jesus had a baby with Mary.” Seeming to hear her words: “Wait, shit, that's kinda like incest, isn't it?”

“It's _all the way_ incest, Annie,” Beth glares.

“Not if it's Magdalene!”

Rio looks just slightly amused but shifts.

“Imma go.”

He starts walking off, back the way he'd come, then stops and turns over his shoulder.

“And naw,” he shakes his head. “Definitely wouldn't trust you wit' my kid.”

Annie waits till he's all the way gone then huffs, folding her arms.

“Well, that's a little rude.”

“What is wrong with you?!” Beth turns on her.

“I can't help it! He makes me nervous and words just come out of my mouth!”

“Well maybe don't open it to begin with,” Beth snaps, but the fury immediately disappears because, really, she can relate.

Sure, she doesn't _entirely_ forget to filter, but Rio does make her flustered and tongue-tied enough that she understands the lack of control.    

“What do you think his ex looks like?” Annie suddenly ponders.

Beth hesitates. Then: “I’ve seen her.”

“You have??”

“Yeah. The day I was following him to find out where he lived.”

“Whoa.” She spends a few moments absorbing this before pressing on: “Is she a looker?”

“I was too far away.” She bites at her lip but then again decides to confide in her sister: “All I saw was him hug her.”

“And? What kind of hug was it? Like with Pill Beth?”

Beth shoots her a harsh look at the reminder of the woman he hugged in the car lot that day, then shakes her head.

“No. It was perfunctory; barely lasted a second.”

“Hmm,” Annie considers. “So they aren’t that close anymore. Yet he’s footing her hospital bill.”

Beth bristles involuntarily. “She’s the mother of his child.”

She can feel Annie’s eyes on her.

“Defensive, much?”

“I’m not defensive,” she glares.

“So just jealous, then?”

“I am _not_ jealous!”

“Right.”

“I’m not. We aren’t together. There’s no conceivable reason I would _be_ jealous.”

Annie rolls her eyes.

“Well, conceive this: she was married to that fine piece of ass and had his baby, while you’re not even allowed to see his apartment without him picking up and leaving.”

And she _would_ want to murder Annie but the anger doesn’t come, not really, because the truth is – yeah. She’s already thought about that. And it kills her.


	6. Hell to Pay

She waves goodbye to the kids and Dean’s mother.

Dean’s staying here for the weekend, visiting, but he’s still at work now. It’s a Friday so the kids had finished school early.

She smiles at Marcus in the backseat, who smiles back, before pulling out of the driveway.

She’d told Judith that he’s a friend’s son, but she’d seen the way she looked at him; knew she’d be interrogating the kids the same way Dean always does. It bothers her on some level, but she also knows it can’t be helped. Rio’s a part of her life now and there’s no hiding it.

“Are you going to be sad again tonight, Miss Beth?”

She smiles, her heart warming.

She will be, but it’s getting easier.

“Now, why would I be when I have you with me?”

He doesn’t seem to take this as too much of a comfort.

“Are you going to be sad when I leave?”

She drums up a smile for him in the rearview mirror.

“Probably a little.”

“D’you want me to stay?” he asks, and her heart clenches.

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’d miss your mom too much.”

He nods like this is indeed true.

She watches him lay his chin on his palm, looking out the window, and he looks so much like Rio that it hurts.

And maybe it’s because she’d just left her kids behind and they’re talking about it, but she suddenly thinks to ask.

“Marcus, do you miss your dad? When you’re back home with your mom?”

She’d never directly ask her own kids, but Marcus is so mature that she feels he may be able to provide this insight she craves. Although, really, it’s dumb altogether because she doesn’t know what answer she wants. It would be good to know her kids don’t miss her when they’re with Dean, so she knows they’re happy, but it’d hurt just as much.

“Yip,” Marcus nods.

Beth swallows.

“Do you wish he still lived with you?”

And she’s surprised when he shakes his head.

“Dad made Mommy sad.”

This makes her frown and she immediately looks away from the mirror so he can’t catch her expression. Looking at the road, she gently presses.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh,” he says lightly. “Every night they yelled at each other and then Daddy would go out and Mommy cried and Daddy didn’t come back till I was sleeping.”

And it suddenly occurs to Beth that she’s interrogating a nine-year-old when she’d promised herself she wouldn’t.

She glances back and he looks fine, though, still watching the view pass by with wondrous eyes.

She focuses back on the road with a swallow.

Somehow she’d found out three hundred percent more about Rio in the past three days than she had in the months she’d known him, but it’s still all just scraps here and there because what does she _really_ know? He has two sisters, his ex’s name is Marina and he has an arch-nemesis who’s back in town. And… he hadn’t been a good husband.

Beth’s still turning this over in her mind, running through Marcus’ words again, when she realises that she needs to fill up.

She takes the first turn-off to a gas station then pulls in. Thanks to the hour of the day, she doesn’t have to wait. The one other car leaves as she’s filling up, and when she’s done, Beth opens Marcus’ door.

“Wanna get some sweets?”

He grins wide and nods so hard his head almost comes off, and she smiles back, holding out her hand. He takes it then jumps out of the car and they head into the shop.

She gets them drinks then waits as he looks over the sweets selection. Something makes her look up and out and – Beth’s blood freezes.

Two guys are at her minivan, one just pulling his fingers away from her hood and, as she watches, they slink away.

And it’s not just that they look suspicious, like they’re trying to remain inconspicuous. It’s that they look like Rio’s guys do. One has a tattoo peeking out from under his shirt while another has one reaching out from the back of his ear right around his head.

“Can I have gummy bears _and_ Nerds?” Marcus wonders. “Please?” he remembers to add.

And she looks down, stricken, having forgot about him for just a second, and now her heart is beating a mile a minute.

_Rio’s child. God._

She puts her hands on his shoulders – preparing to shield him with her body – and keeps watching the men. In seconds she feels like she’s going to pass out and reminds herself to breathe.

It’s not even a minute later when she sees them both drive off in a dark green Mustang.

She forces herself into movement, grabbing Marcus’ hand and pulling him to the counter.

“Pump three,” she says, exhaling harshly and dumping all their stuff onto the counter.

She pays then rushes out, strapping Marcus in before climbing in and locking the doors, her heart pounding.

What should she do?

Her eyes dart around the gas station and she realises it’s too empty. She has to get out of it.

She starts up and pulls away, forcing herself to take deep breaths. She could be exaggerating. They could just be guys with tattoos looking at her minivan.

Except… what interest would guys like that – who own a Mustang – have in what Rio calls her _momma van_?

Which brings to mind something else he’d said.

_Be careful, mami. You can never be too careful, alright?_

She’s double- and triple-guessing herself when suddenly the van starts jerking and sputtering and _oh, god._ Oh god, oh god, oh god. They’d done something to her car.

She pulls over to the shoulder of the road just as it stutters to a stop, exhausted.

It switches off and Beth spins to check on Marcus, who is blissfully unaware, stuffing Nerds and gummy bears into his mouth at the same time.

The panic feels like an army of moths in her stomach and Beth feels like she may throw up.

They’re going to take his son. They’re going to hurt Rio’s child and there’s nothing she can do; nothing.

_Stop. Focus._

She does a 360 and realises the road is abandoned, save for the cars whooshing by.

She gets out her phone and opens her chat with Rio, seeing her last texts about taking the kids to Dean’s mother. It’s her new way of attempting to offset his paranoia – hoping that if she’s constantly in contact and keeping him up to date about her whereabouts, he’d feel better – but he hasn’t replied to any of them and it makes her feel like she’s just hassling him.

It gives her pause, making her nibble on her lip.

It’s only going to be worse if she freaks him out for no reason.

But – _Keep your eyes open; you see something, anythin, you let me know._

Beth jolts out of her seat when there’s a knock at her window.

Fuck. It’s a man.

She stares at him for two long seconds, considering her options.

Then she lowers her window a few inches, just enough for him to speak.

“Having some car trouble?”

“Oh, yeah, but I’m ok, thanks.”

“Are you sure? I’m good with cars.”

“I appreciate that, but I’ve already called AAA.”

“They can take forever, though. I bet I can have you back up and running in 5.”

“That’s really so sweet,” she forces a smile. “But my husband would kill me. He hates anyone touching the car besides him, and I’m having bad enough of a day as it is.”

She puts on her best housewife shrug, as if bemoaning overbearing husbands, and he stares for only a second longer before nodding.

“Good luck, then.”

“Thank you,” she grins back as sweetly as possible and immediately rolls her window back up.

And then, just before he walks away, his gaze darts to Marcus in the backseat and lingers for just a second too long.

Beth dials.

* * *

It’s under ten minutes later, just as she’s beginning to feel silly, when five different cars screech to a halt around her.

One barely even comes to a stop before Rio jumps out of it and about ten different guys are right behind him. But even more pull up and leap out, swarming around the minivan until she can barely see anything except for tattoos, dark getups and glints of metal.

And Beth immediately feels way worse, like there’s a very embarrassed frog in her throat. She unlocks the car as Rio approaches and he yanks her door open.

“Black Canary,” he growls at Marcus, whose door is also opening. “Hustle.”

And Marcus’ face goes immediately serious as he undoes his seatbelt and without hesitation springs straight into the arms of the tattooed man in the door.

Rio’s eyes go to her.

“You ok?”

She’s stuttering, trying to process, and settles on nothing, opting to turn around to check on Marcus again. But he’s gone, as is Rio’s guy, and then there’s a screech of tyres and one of the cars are pulling away like a bat out of hell.

“Where’s he going?”

“Someplace safe. C’mon.”

For the first time, she takes note of his body; the way it’s caging her in and shielding her. It’s only when she shifts forward, jerkily, that he moves. But he only goes back as much as he goes forward, before impatiently pulling her out with a hand on her waist.

And his heels are practically on hers as he once again shields her with himself, steering her towards the black Cadillac.

“Keys,” he demands, and she passes them.

She vaguely hears him throw them at someone but can’t look up to check because he’s surrounding her, protecting her, blocking her vision, then shoving her into his car. The door closes beside her and Beth allows herself to take a breath for the first time, except then Rio’s in too and he reverses out so rapidly she thinks she might hurl, not helped by the way the car then jolts forward and they’re going so fast, she thinks she was safer before.

“Oh my god, please slow down,” she murmurs, genuinely worried she may throw up.

He doesn’t say anything and he definitely doesn’t slow down. She realises for the first time that his gun is on his lap and she hadn’t taken her handbag and _god why is this such a sudden mess._

She presses her eyes closed and wills herself not to cry.

 _Marcus is fine_ , she tells herself. _He’s ok. You’re ok. Rio’s ok._

Finally the car comes to a stop and she immediately falls out of it, feeling icy air hit her face.

She opens her eyes and notes the water. They’re at the port, near a warehouse. Miles away from where she’d been parked.

She undoes the buttons on her jacket and even though she’s only wearing a thin dress beneath, she drops it on the dirty ground, letting the wind blow at her, and it immediately eases her nausea.

She hears his door slam closed and then suddenly he’s there and she can’t stop herself.

Her heels click on the cement and then she barrels into him, her face burying into his shoulder as she sobs out a breath.

“Rio.”

Her hands are crushed against his chest between them and Rio hesitates for only a moment before roping his arms around her, tucking her tight against him. She feels the butt of his gun press into her back and she closes her eyes, breathing him in.

“You’re ok,” he murmurs into her hair.

She doesn’t know how long they stand there for, the wind whipping at the statue of them.

She only knows that by the time she shifts – realising she’s _hugging Rio_ – and tries to extract herself, she feels like herself again; her heart rate calm and steady.

He’d surrounded her with his heat and she instantly feels ice cold. Shit.

She turns to look for her coat then gratefully goes to retrieve it.

She hears Rio near and her cheeks burn.

God. Why had she done that? And how does she address it now? Does she thank him?

But it’s a non-issue – he speaks as she pulls on her coat.

“Tell me everythin,” he orders, face a mask, like nothing had just happened.

And so she does too, launching into the story, and feels less and less silly – less and less like she’d caused unnecessary drama and exaggerated the seriousness of the situation – as she watches his face mar more and more.

“Tell me about him again,” he growls when she’s finished.

“What about him?”

“What’d he look like?”

“Dark hair, dark eyes.” Then she remembers something she’d seen as he’d been walking away, while she’d been waiting for Rio to pick up her call. “He had a tattoo on his wrist. Maybe a triangle?”

“Was he Latino?”

Beth falters. “I guess…? But there was… _something_ in his accent. Almost like, I don’t know, Russian?”

“Fuck!” Rio explodes, kicking at a pile of crates that go flying.

Her breaths come faster. “What’s wrong?”

He looks so furious that he can’t speak for several seconds.

“That’s Nico.”

“What??”

“That’s Nico! ‘Member I said he ain’t been here in a while? Word is he was in Russia.”

And she stows all her questions – _why was he in Russia? Why did he leave? Why would he come back here?_ – because he walks off, cursing and doing a wide sweep of the area around them.

She stands there, shivering, and when he gets back he’s on the phone.

“Lemme talk to him,” his words float over to her on the icy wind.

He seems to near almost subconsciously, and she notes how tense his hand is on his gun.

“Hey, Pop, you ok?”

She slowly walks closer to him, hoping to hear some of the child’s responses, but it’s useless, the wind is too loud.

“Gummy bears, huh?”

Beth pushes her hands into her pockets, hoping to defrost them.

“I’m sorry, lil man. I’ll make sure they have it next time, yea? You can watch tonight, I promise.”

And – is Marcus really complaining that his safe house doesn’t have Green Arrow? And is Rio actually _apologising_ for it?

“Naw, you can’t,” he says into the phone, and she notes him grind his teeth. “Because it ain’t safe, Marcus.” He listens and then, for the first time, his eyes dart to her before he exhales. “She’ll be fine. Yea. I promise.” Another pause, then: “I’ll tell her.”

It occurs to Beth that she should check on her own kids; even Dean. She hadn’t noticed anyone following her before the gas station, but they must’ve been, right? But since when?

“I’ll see you later,” he says into the phone then hangs up and looks at her. “Get in the car.”

Freezing cold, she doesn’t argue, drawing a breath of relief when she climbs into the heat of the car. But Rio doesn’t join her, opting to make another call instead, and her frown lasts only a second before she gets out her own phone.

She’s checked on the kids, Annie, Ruby and Dean – all ok – by the time he slides back into the car. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls away, but she notes that his gun is on the centre console now and generally there’s a little less tension in his shoulders.

“Boys did a check of your house, everythin looks good,” he eventually informs her.

“Oh. Thank you.”

“You ok to go home?”

“Um.” She actually wants two very stiff drinks, but she thinks she wants that to be followed by climbing into her blankets, so she nods. “Yeah.”

“You see anythin funny, you let me know, yea?”

There’s some absurd part of her that wants to ask him to stay, but she swallows it down.

“Ok.”

“And you ain’t gotta worry about Marcus no more.”

She blinks, guilt filling her chest like lead.

“I’m sorry.”

And he glances at her for the first time then shakes his head.

“You ain’t done nothin wrong.”

“I should’ve called you at the gas station. Or the police. But it just seemed so open and–”

“You woulda been a sittin duck if they came back,” he nods.

And, yes. Exactly. She’d felt so vulnerable, with nobody there but the teller, who’d looked about 19 years old.

“Was the smart play. It ain’t your fault, ma.”

She takes his words, forces herself to absorb them, and remembers every single time he’d been harsh on her in the past. There’s no way he’d lie to her now – and definitely not about his own son – just to make her feel better.

“Is he ok?”

He sighs. “Yea. He tough.”

And suddenly she remembers: _Black Canary. Hustle._ And Marcus’ little face immediately going serious as he’d sprung into action. It had been a go word.

“Black Canary?”

He shoots her a look then nods. “It means drop everything and go now; everythin’s fine and you can trust these guys.”

The explanation seems to imply that there are other code words; other scenarios where Rio’s not fine or Marcus can’t trust whoever is trying to take him. It sends a shiver down her spine.

She remembers wondering how he deals with his double life and it makes her think: should she be teaching her children code words? Should she have weapons at the ready? Fifteen guys ready to show up when she calls? God.

Beth presses her palms to her eyes and for the millionth time wonders how this is actually her life now. How this is the life she’d chosen for herself.

It takes her several seconds to realise that the car has come to a standstill and when she looks up, she sees her house. Her minivan is parked beside them in the driveway as if it had always been there.

Rio looks at her expectantly and she realises: “You’re coming in to fetch his stuff?”

He nods and she nods too before climbing out.

After she’s unlocked the front door, he gently but firmly pushes her out of the way then enters first.

She locks the door behind her then bolts it and follows behind, switching on lights. When he seems pleased, she leads him upstairs.

She darts into the bedroom then immediately begins packing up things, tossing them into Marcus’ bags as Rio stands at the door, gun pressed to his leg. She wants to ask whether he can be intimidating while also helping her, but really there isn’t all that much to pick up – most of what she’s having to put away had actually been unpacked and left out by herself rather than Marcus. She’s mostly just conscious of Rio watching her as she bends and contorts to get things.

But then he speaks, his voice seeming to reverberate around the empty room.

“Marcus said you was gonna be sad without him.”

Oh god. So that’s why he’d looked at her while he’d been on the phone with his son.

She imagines being in his position: hearing your child say that someone had said they’d be sad without them there.

It’s pathetic or creepy whichever way you slice it, and a hundred percent sounds like something you’d say to guilt a kid.

“That’s not… what I meant,” she struggles, turning to face him; scrabbling for an explanation. “It’s just something I said on the first night, to help him feel better about his mom.”

It’s not really the whole truth, but it’s what makes it out of her mouth and, honestly, the best she can do.

He stares at her then nods in that way he has, like he can solve everything in the world by moving his head.

Then he steps forward, putting his gun away.

“He also asked me to make sure you were gonna be ok. You gonna be ok?”

God, he truly has the world’s sweetest kid.

 _You’re lonely_ , Annie’s words come back to her, and it hits her right in the chest. She hadn’t felt it since Marcus had been here and she doesn’t know if it’s because he reminds her of his dad or because it meant the possibility of Rio popping up at any given moment, but he’d made her forget about the hole inside herself.

But Beth nods, forging a small smile. “There’s nothing half a bottle of bourbon can’t fix.”

His lip quirks but his eyes don’t look quite as amused and Beth breaks eye contact, zipping up Marcus’ bag.

She sticks his iPad in another one then zips it up and hands Rio them both, before going for the other two.

“There might be some clothes in the wash – I’ll return them once they’re clean.”

He regards her, rolling his eyes a little.

He knows, as she does, that she’s not saying what she really wants to be saying.

_Why don’tchu just ask?_

So Beth stills with a sigh.

“Who did you call, earlier?”

“Who you think?” he pops a brow. “I want Nico’s head on a fuckin platter.”

She lets out a breath.

“I thought you said no bloodshed.”

His eyes burn. “He threatened my kid, Elizabeth, he threatened _you_.”

And she tries not to let that affect her, clearing her throat.

“I don’t understand. If he was after Marcus, why did he just walk away?”

And, with the way his face twists, she realises that’s what’s bothering him, too.

It doesn’t make any sense.

“Maybe he bought my lie?” she posits. “Maybe he thought he’d gotten the wrong kid?”

It’s way too much of a coincidence, but what other explanation is there?

“Naw,” Rio shakes his head. “Nico never gets it wrong. He a bloodhound; he always gets his target.”

And her stomach sinks, the same way it had just a few hours before.

“Is Marcus going to be ok?”

The question seems to affect him and he steps closer slowly, his eyes focussed on her.

He stops a step away.

“There ain’t a safer kid in Michigan, trust me.”

And that’s what his mouth says but his eyes are saying something different, deeper, and she wishes for the millionth time that she had any way of knowing what’s on his mind.

She only knows where _her_ mind is with him this close.

_You’re ok._

She’d been pressed to him before, but that had somehow felt so different; primal in a completely disparate way. Like he’d been protecting her from herself and the whole world all at once.

And it reminds her of what she hasn’t had a moment to think about yet: his face when he’d ripped open her door, the way he’d asked her if she was ok, the way he’d shielded her with his entire body.

_He threatened my kid, Elizabeth, he threatened you._

And the way he’d equated that, put her next to his son – it settles in her chest and it’s a little like lead again, but this time it’s airy too, spreading through her lungs. And, god, it makes her wish. She wishes she could understand this _thing_ between them, wishes –

His eyes drop to her lips and she stops breathing.

Then his hands are on her arms and she’s utterly puzzled until she realises he’s taking the last two bags from her and she exhales hard, stepping back once he has them.

He gives her one last look before making his way to the door and, she swears, it falls from her lips without her permission.

“Rio.”

He pauses and turns so slowly, like he knows she shouldn’t have said that.

And then he looks at her and she thinks _god, what is she doing_?

She wants to thank him for coming, but she knows he didn't do it for her. And she doesn’t want it to have been for her, she just wants him to know that it meant something to her; that seeing him pull up after sitting petrified, trapped, had made her feel a cascade of emotions she has no way of naming.

And then there’s the way he hadn’t questioned her barrelling into him, the way he’d held her tight.

God, she wishes she has the strength to ask him to stay.

She clears her throat.

“Say goodnight to Marcus for me.”

He nods then disappears, and Beth tastes regret on her tongue like steel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, Oscar Isaac is Nico asksksksksk don’t come for me.
> 
> One more chapter left! What are your thoughts on this one?


	7. A Real One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the last chapter! I honestly still feel so incredibly honoured that I had the random need for Beth to have to take care of Marcus and other people actually... cared about that too :O Thank you so so much for all the comments and kudos, this chapter honestly wouldn't be here now without it. 
> 
> I'm not sure when I'll have part 2 in the series up, as I'm in the process of moving -_- But I hope for it to be within the next week! Part 2 will have a slightly different focus/feel with less family stuff (though I could obviously never completely exclude Marcus). I really hope you'll follow me over and that you enjoy this chapter xx

Rio clicks the door closed quietly behind him.

The last thing he needs is the kid waking up and wanting to watch more Green Arrow.

His eyes scan the warehouse. All his men are in place; everythin looks good.

He presses his hands into his pockets. This place is fuckin freezing, especially after coming out of Marcus’ room, which is set up to seem nothing like the warehouse it’s set in. It’s all warm lights and soft pillows in there and then you come out here and it’s the bleakest shit you’ve ever seen in your life, stark and grey.

And then there’s all his men dotted throughout – a mix of people from his organisation and a private security firm that had travelled with Marcus from the first safe house.

He thinks the private guys are a trip – with their earpieces, holsters and uniforms – but hey, anything to keep his son safe.

One bounds up to him now, two hundred and eighty pounds of muscle.

“The perimeter is secure, sir.”

“Good, keep it that way.”

The man nods then returns to his position and Rio’s about to take a breath when Demon comes up to him.

“Everythin good?”

He nods.

“Tonight’s meet still on?”

Shit. He’d completely forgotten he’s supposed to meet with a supplier tonight.

It’s about the last thing in the world he feels like doing – but he knows if he seems spooked, it’ll freak his boys out and he really don’t need that.

“Yea.”

Demon nods. “I’ll tell em.”

And he turns but then hesitates, coming back to face Rio.

“Listen, boss. You know I never question you–”

“And now ain’t the time to start, neither.”

But he and Demon go too far back for that to stop him, and Rio thinks it’s going to be a complaint about having to work with the private guys – preparing to field it with the explanation that it’s just an added layer of insurance and it ain’t an insult to nobody – but it’s not that at all.

“What’s up with the bitch?”

“’Scuse me?”

“First she washin cash then cleanin cars and now you trust her wit’ your kid??”

“I don’t _trust_ her,” Rio scoffs, offended.

“Then what is it?” Demon asks, brow furrowed in genuine befuddlement.

And Rio could brush it off, tell him it’s none of his business, but he knows his guys. If Demon’s coming to his face with this then it means he ain’t the only one thinking it.

He takes a measured moment then steps forward, hands folded across his front; the picture of candid calm.

“She a real one, alright? All we gotta do is mould her. Then we got a clean mama-lookin player in the suburbs, and I can run wit’ that shit.”

To think that had once been the truth, that once upon a time it _had_ all just been about flipping his game; about finding something new, something better. And then she’d led him into that bathroom and he’d abandoned all his well-laid plans outside the door.

Demon considers. “So she a project?”

He nods. “And you know I hate it when people interrupt my projects.”

And understanding enters his eyes. “Nico ain’t gonna get far, you got my word on that.”

“That’s what I wanna hear. Now go get Mr Cisco, I wanna roll in two.”

Demon nods, about to walk off.

“And Demon.”

He turns back questioningly.

“Don’t lemme hear you call her a bitch again.” He lets his tone get less authoritative; a bit mocking. “They ladies – let’s make em think we gentlemen.”

And it’s the facetious tilt to his tone that makes Demon grin and nod before ambling away.

Except he _isn’t_ joking, is he, because that shit went out the window long ago. Now everything’s changed, everything.

He blinks and feels her pressed to him, and now it ain’t even in the bathroom or in her bedroom no more but outside that damn warehouse, her delicate hands squeezing into his jacket as she whispered his name someway new and different; addictive.

Fuck.

* * *

Beth switches off the lounge light.

She’d already called Ruby and Annie to update them, had more than enough bourbon, and replayed the entire afternoon in her head to the point of exhaustion.

She switches off the kitchen light then grabs the bottle of bourbon because is there even such a thing as enough bourbon?

She heads to her bedroom and is about to begin undressing when she realises there’s a weird sound coming from outside.

She frowns then opens the door that leads to the outside and immediately freezes.

It’s the man from outside her car.

Nico.

There’s a chair outside that spins and that’s what he’s doing – what’s making the noise – as smoke comes from the cigarette he’s puffing. When he sees her, he stops, pressing his heels into the ground.

He stands up with a grin that sends a shiver down her spine.

“It’s Elizabeth, right?”

* * *

The meet is done, which means this day is also finally done, and Rio gets into his car with a sigh of relief.

It’s only when he’s on the 575 that he finally lets himself think about it all.

And by _all_ , he means her.

_Is Marcus going to be ok?_

And then his boy’s words, on the phone earlier: _Daddy, tell her I didn’t want to leave._

He swears to god, he ain’t never meant for it to happen. Marina was in the hospital and Carla was acting like she ain’t never heard him apologise before – with Gabby taking her damn side – and his mind had gone to _her_. She was the only other person he trusted.

But he hadn’t meant for her to bond with his son and he’s conflicted because it’s dangerous, too dangerous, but it also makes his insides turn in a way that ain’t bad, not even a little bit.

He thinks about the way Marcus had sidled up to her with his lemonade and she’d swung an easy arm around him; the way his lil man had whispered in her ear and she’d giggled, high and true. Shit, he’s in way too deep.

Because then his mind goes to the way she’d smiled at him from across the yard, stuttering on like a lightbulb, just like when she’d admitted to not having any bread.

And from there it only gets worse: Her tiny ice cold nose pressed into his neck as she gripped onto him. Her scent and soft body pressed all the way into him, shivering in that paper-thin fuckin dress. Her cleavage later as she’d stood there talking about his kid’s laundry. Her ass as she’d bent over to reach for a toy. He’d just made out the line of her panties.

Fuck. Just thinking about it again has him hard.

It had taken everything in him not to step forward and run his hand up and under.

He sucks his lip into his mouth, considering.

He remembers holding that perfect ass in his fist as she moaned and pressed forward; shook and rose upward. He sees it again in his mind’s eye and god if he doesn’t want it, right now.

He takes the turn-off that’ll take him to her place and remembers her palms pressing him down as she fucked him into her bed. The sound she makes when she comes, which he swears to god is the sexiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

But then, also: _You should go. It’s over._

And he keeps trying to forget it; trying to convince himself she’s changed, but it don’t work because not even she can convince herself of that shit.

 _Do you know yet?_ he’d asked, and not once had she been able to answer.

He slams against the steering wheel then takes a sharp sudden turn, taking him further and further away from Elizabeth Boland.

* * *

Beth tries to straighten her back; look tougher than she is.

“ _Beth_ , actually.”

God, where is her phone?

But her fingers grip nothing when they go to her pockets and she wants to cry in frustration. How is this happening?

“I’m Nico. It’s good to meet you, officially.”

She crosses her arms, hoping to steady herself and appear unintimidated at the same time.

“Didn’t want to introduce yourself earlier?”

He shrugs. “You didn’t seem like you were in the right mood. Said you were having a bad day, remember?”

She steps back as he steps forward, throwing him into full light.

And now she takes him in properly. There’s something very groomed about him; his brown curls lustrous and his strong jawbone covered in a light dusting of beard. He’s good-looking and dressed in a dark blue cardigan and light blue scarf. His jeans are faded and, altogether, he seems like someone who should be curling up near a fire.

But she forces herself not to let her guard down – there has to be a reason Rio had warned her about him.

Nico notices. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m unarmed.” He lifts his arms then turns a little so she has a view of his back. “My guys in the street aren’t, in case you want to try something, but there’s no need to involve them, right?”

His weird mix of accents is stronger on some words, tripping her up, but she forces herself to nod.

“Good. I just came here to talk.”

“Why would you want to talk to me?”

“Because you’re an interesting woman, Beth.”

Her eyes dart all over him. “Then why would you think I’d want to talk to you?” she asks, brazened by how much softer his voice is than any of those first times Rio spoke to her. “I don’t see what you think we’d have to say to each other – especially after you threatened a child under my care; an innocent who doesn’t have anything to do with any of this.”

And then Nico cocks his head and he does remind her of Rio a little bit, frowning.

“Oh, you’ve got it all wrong.” He steps forward, tossing his cigarette. “I don’t care about Rio’s brat, Beth.”

And she holds her breath as he comes even closer.

“I wanted you.”

* * *

The porch light comes on and Rio grins.

He’s more than a little drunk, but that’s cool. Ain’t nothing she’s never seen before.

Michelle throws open the door and stares at him, unimpressed.

“It’s late.”

“It ain’t that late.”

“What are you doing here?”

He lifts a brow. “I think you know.”

And he leans against the doorway and licks over his whiskey lips.

“I was about to go to bed.”

And yeah, he can see that. She’s in pajama bottoms and a little tank top, braless. Her breasts are tiny, nipples peeking through. They ain’t Elizabeth’s, but for right now they’ll do.

“Yea, that’s exactly where I was thinkin we could go.”

She eyes him. “Did you hear a word I said last time?”

And now his jaw ticks. He doesn’t wanna think about that.

“You was in a mood.”

“I wasn’t _in a mood_ , Rio, I said that I wasn’t gonna be your stand-in.”

He shrugs like this is the same thing.

“You gonna let me in or what?”

“ _Dios mío_ ,” she says to the sky, before looking back down at him. “You’re hot, Rio, and I’m not the type to complain about good casual sex, but I promised myself long ago that I’d never again fuck a guy who’s imagining he’s with somebody else.”

And just like that he’s pissed off.

“There ain’t nobody else.”

“And my name’s Marilyn Monroe.”

He glares at her, fuming, before pushing off and turning around.

“You know,” she says, and he stops, “I know you’re not the type to pay, but you may want to consider it – because I don’t know any self-respecting woman who’s going to take all that baggage on for free. Or, you know, you could go hit up whoever it is you _actually_ want.”

“I don’t need your fuckin advice,” he growls out, but then there’s a slam behind him and he curses again, running both his hands over his face.

He heads for his car, trying to remember whether there’s more scotch inside. And it’s only when he’s in, away from the icy air that will now always remind him of her curled against him, that his anger begins to re-direct.

All Elizabeth’s words begin to drum in his mind, each time she’d pulled him close or pushed him away; each time she’d said nothing at all.

It’s all her fault.

‘Cause here's the thing about Elizabeth Boland: she's a thief.

Not the money. He don't give a damn about the money no more. She'd stolen from him and she hadn't paid it all back, but then he'd roped her in and he thought he'd won, hadn't he. With her basic bitch passport and her innocent face crossing the border in her momma van – it had been a win. Except there'd been another heist underway and he hadn't even known; hadn't even suspected. She'd called him an idiot and the dial on the lock had started turning. Turning, when she’d sputtered that she didn’t know how to tell the FBI that he was hittin it. Turning, when he demanded a name and she’d said _Beth Boland_. Turning, even, when she'd launched keys into his face. Everything she did brought her closer and it was a damn problem. He'd tried pulling back, he had.

But then she'd stood there with her chin up – literally, with his gun pressed beneath it – as he threatened to end her and she hadn't shaken, not for a second.

Instead she'd asked for 50 and he'd given it but still, that ain't what he's mad about.

Nah, it's the way she'd come to him immediately when she thought her daughter had been taken, begging him to help; the way she'd said _Don't say panties_ ; the way she looked at his lips; the way she asked, jealously, whether that had been his ex wife.

She'd gotten past the security protocols, is all, he'd kept telling himself, not bothering to answer why the fuck that was.

He’d left instead. Left his place, left his business; left it all behind. And when he’d returned, he’d stayed far away. Two whole weeks without giving her even the slightest hint he was back in town.

But it didn’t matter, made no difference, because soon, too soon, she was into the vault and cracking the lock and prying, prying too hard. Digging her fingers in with reckless abandon, the way she'd rifled through his bedside table.

And when she'd swung him open – soon, too damn soon – she hadn't taken anything. Nah. She'd crept in and curled up to stay.

And it turns out he hadn't won, after all. He'd been the one who'd been taken.

* * *

“W-what do you mean?” Beth stammers, thrown completely off guard; all her bravery forgotten.

Nico shrugs. “You’re who interests me.”

“Why?”

He looks at her carefully, biting the inside of his cheek. He’s considering her.

“I want you to work for me.”

And she nearly chokes on her own spit.

“Excuse me?”

He nods. “I want someone inside Rio’s organisation, and you’re it. This afternoon’s stunt? That was just me confirming my suspicion.”

And suddenly it all falls into place.

He hadn’t meant to threaten her. He’d meant to scare her, to see what would happen. Rattle the cage and see what shakes loose.

She remembers Rio’s men swarming around her car – Nico wouldn’t have needed to wait long for his confirmation.

“What if I hadn’t noticed your guys tamper with my car?” 

He shrugs, unworried. “I would’ve just tried again.”

She lets out a long breath.

“What do you want from me?”

And now he’s an arm’s length away, so close she can see gold flecks in his eyes.

“I want to pay you very handsomely.”

She blinks.

“What?”

“Double whatever Rio’s giving you,” he nods. “And you get to keep that too, which gives you one nice fat paycheck.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“A little intel here; a little tip there. Anything that ends up putting his business in the ground.”

Her heart is beating so fast, she’s scared she might pass out.

“He’d kill me if he found out.”

“I’d protect you.”

And she scoffs because isn’t that _hilarious_ – all these gangsters promising to protect her when in reality they’re all just in it for themselves.

Except now, with Nico’s offer on the table, she has to figure out what _she’s_ in it for.

_Once you know what you are, you let me know, a'ight?_

She swallows. “Why me? There must be hundreds of people in his organisation.”

“You know, the thing about bangers? They’re loyal to a fault. You wring them out and they drip with it; you cut them and they bleed it. I’d know; I’ve got ‘hundreds’ too,” he smirks. “But you aren’t a banger, are you? You’re just trying to make a payday. I respect that, Beth.” He watches her, calculating. “And now I’m offering you a bigger one.”

Is that the truth? Is that all she’s here for, the money?

And Nico smiles, knowing he’s got her on the hook.

“So, what do you think? Want to take down Rio?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing from Rio's POV was a challenge I'm not sure I was super successful at, but I hope it was ok 😩
> 
> Can't wait to hear your thoughts (especially about what Beth's going to say)!


End file.
